Fated To Be
by The Lonely Executioner
Summary: Fate's sense of irony strikes at two very unusual couples, making life difficult for all around them.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** _Malfoy has been a prominent House in the magical world since the 12th century. So has House Zambini. Both Houses are Slytherin. Now, Fate raises it's ironic head when the Heirs to both Houses are forced to reveal their true nature to the people that will mean the most to them._

**Chapter One: ****Binns' Assignment and Deep Dreaming**

**In** Draco Malfoy's considered opinion, only two good things had ever come from the Muggle world.

One, the authoress and undisputed Queen of vampiric horror, Anne Rice.

Two, the enchanting voice of Amy Lee from the rock band, Evanescence.

In fact, he was listening to that voice right now.

'You don't remember me/But I remember you/I lie awake and try so hard/Not to think of you/But who can decide what they dream/And dream I do…'

He flicked his wand, turning up the volume. Fortunately, he slept in a separate wing of Greenfield than his parents, so he could blast the music as loud as he desired. Which could be quite loud.

And Lucius and Narcissa would be none the wiser.

He grinned as he pulled out a quill and his History of Magic assignment.

_'Describe, in full historical detail, how veela integrated themselves into the magical world,'_ he read. Immediately, his grin faded. _'There will be three rolls of parchment due on this topic.'_

He sighed.

Just like Binns to make a long project of something that _should_ have been a mere paper.

He, reluctantly, stopped the CD and walked up to the library.

"What do you want?"

Draco managed to keep his curses mental. Lucius was in a snarky mood. _Again._

"I'm looking for the family annals since the twelfth century. I have a school assignment on veela," he said, voice deceptively light.

As he browed for the correct annals, Lucius snapped, "And you're using the _Malfoy_ chronicles?"

Draco turned to look at his father with the gaze of one talking to someone who was incredibly slow on the uptake. A patented Malfoy look.

"Of course. They are the closest resource and reference at hand," he replied. "I think it a brilliant idea."

"We've been masquerading as Purebloods for the past three hundred years, Draco! Having veela blood destroys that image," Lucius screamed.

"I'm not ashamed of my history. Mother brought the Pureblood lineage of the Blacks and you, the veela heritage of the Malfoys." He grabbed three books, part of the family annals he wanted. "I fail to understand why you are embarrassed," he murmured as he slid down the library ladder, grabbing a fourth book.

The best way, he mused, to deal with Lucius Malfoy's temper was to remain unnaturally calm.

_"I am _not_ ashamed!"_

"I won't disturb you again, Father. Good day."

He dashed to his room, dodging a few ill-aimed jinxes and curses from Lucius' wand. Once safe, he muttered a few protective charms on his door.

His father _would_ come for him.

He went to the CD player he had bought with Muggle money in London and turned it on again. Then, he began to browse through the chronicles, writing down the information he needed.

Finally, late at night, he fell asleep.

And he dreamed.

_Soft brown hair was twisted around him. He was _surrounded_ by those chocolate waves and was content. For the moment._

_Slowly, he travelled down his mate's body. God, he needed her so badly it was painful._

_She arched against him, almost reluctant in her surrender to him._

_He smiled against her flat stomach. She wouldn't be reluctant for too much longer. Soon, she would _beg_ to be complete._

He jerked awake, startled to find himself in his bed.

_I was just in a field of red wildflowers,_ he thought before he realized it to be a dream. A highly detailed, highly erotic dream.

Then, a second realization hit him

He had dreamed of his _mate_!! The ancient process was beginning with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blaise Zambini opened the note that Draco's eagle owl had brought him.

_Blaise, this is _important! _Very important._

_It's begun. You?_

D.

Blaise rolled his eyes. It was so Draco-esque that it _had_ to be real. Short and to the point.

He re-read it and dropped it. The veela instincts were awakening in his cousin.

Immediately, he quilled a reply.

_Hello, cousin. It's good to _finally_ hear from you._

_No, the instinct hasn't surfaced in me yet. Since it has in you, I know to be expecting it soon. Await notification from me concerning this further._

_Do you know the identity yet?_

_If it gets to a breaking point, write to Master Severus. He'll help._

_Your cousin,_ Blaise

He closed the note and tied it onto Draco's eagle owl. "Fly."

He shut his window after the bird and sat on his bed. It was going to be a difficult skip year.

Every 100 years or so, Hogwarts took an entire year off to do deep cleaning and to give the people there a rest. Dumbledore had chosen this year to take off. He had said that a break was badly needed by both the students and the teachers.

Smirking, Blaise lay down and began to do some quiet, Malfoy-esque plotting.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Hello! I'm the authoress, _Kurama and Malfoy_. These are my favourite men in fantasy worlds, so I figured that I could take that as a screen-name. Yeah! I'm happy, happy, happy!_

_Oh, I wrote this chapter when I was half sugar-high, so if it seems OOC, please forgive me?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: ****The Departure of Generation X**

**Draco **received his cousin's note with more than a little glee.

Until he read the contents.

_Like I didn't already know that! I sure as hell can't go to Lucius, Blaise,_ he wrote back. _I'm no idiot, cousin, and I already knew that, should it be necessary, I should contact Master Severus. I will do so, Blaise, and I await your letter of Awakening._

D.

He sighed and sent it to Blaise.

There had been another dream last night and they were getting more and more vivid. It was becoming highly painful to sleep, so he was doing without. A Resting Potion supplied him with as much energy as he would have gotten sleeping. Probably more, given the restlessness of his dreams.

Blaise was lying to him, though.

The instinct may not be _fully_ awake, but he sensed it in the smell of the letter.

He sniffed again.

Yes, he was definitely close to Awakening. If he hadn't done so already and at least given his mate the first Mark. Probably hadn't Sealed it, though, given that he had only _just_ turned the legal age of seventeen.

Who, though? Who could Blaise _possibly_ be attracted to?

If it was _his_ mate, there were going to be some _serious_ issues!

Then again, if there _were_ a Challenge, he already knew he would win. He was determined to possess Hermione.

He froze.

_Whoa! What brought Granger to mind? Me, mated with _Granger?_ It's laughable! I would be the laughingstock of Slytherin. A Gryffindor?!_ He shuddered before he shrugged.

So what if his dream-mate had brown hair and chocolate eyes? A lot of girls had those features. It didn't mean that he was attracted to Granger.

Hell, she'd slapped him in Third Year, for crying aloud. Probably still hated him for almost getting that savage, Hagrid, fired, if he thought about it.

Which he really didn't want to.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione sat down at the Granger's dining room table and looked at her parents. They were _so_ going to be pissed at her. She had _promised_ that she would stay with them this summer, yet Dumbledore had told her to go to 12 Grimmauld Place for the break.

"Mummy, Daddy, I've got bad news."

"You can't stay for the summer," her mother said, voice flat and cold.

"No, I can't. Headmaster Dumbledore says that I'm needed elsewhere." She didn't _dare_ tell them where. If Voldemort's Death Eaters came after her family, she knew that the Order was safe because she hadn't told her parents, so they couldn't divulge any information.

"It's alright, dearest. Do as you feel is right," her father said, smiling gently.

"I love you, Mummy and Daddy. I'll be gone before midnight."

They nodded and her mother looked resigned. She stood and moved to walk away before her mother burst out with, "Why don't you ever _tell_ us _anything_? I'm sick of worrying about you ceaselessly."

She froze, facing away from her parents.

"It hurts me twice as much as it hurts you, Mummy. So much more than it hurts you that it's impossible to express. I don't tell you anything to keep you safe. Ignorance is bliss after all," she replied after carefully choosing her words.

"So little. So little," her mother sobbed. "My little girl is gone!"

"Your little girl is still here. She's just grown up into a woman. I'll leave immediately," she said, squaring her shoulders and walking away. She could no longer allow herself to be affected by tears and emotional scenes.

After Hermione had walked away, her father said, "That, my dear, is one hell of a daughter."

"What do you mean?"

"She takes her responsibility and makes sure to follow through. We've raised her well. Let her go."

"I-I-I _can't!_"

"Unfortunately, my dear, I'm afraid that if you don't let her go, she will separate herself from us forever."

"Separate herself from us? Forever?"

His wife sounded so panicked that he regretted his choice of words. "Yes."

She stood and said, "Good-night, dear."

He nodded.

Hermione looked at Crookshanks.

"Why don't they _understand_, Crookshanks? Especially Mummy. This is so much harder for me than it is for them! Yet they act like _I'm_ the one in the wrong!"

Crookshanks _'Mreow'_ed and looked like the typical all-knowing cat.

Hermione sighed and began packing. Molly and Remus would be here to pick her up as soon as she sent up her sign, a white stag.

That was her Animagus form and something she was _very_ proud of.

She finished packing and looked at the London skyline. It was beautiful.

She shot up the stag, a momentary burst of dazzling white light. Almost immediately, she saw the signal that indicated an affirmative.

She had ten minutes.

She levitated her trunk and grabbed Crookshanks' cage. Once in the hall, she heard a soft, male voice.

"Hermione."

She turned and was, for some odd reason, disappointed to see her father. "They will be here in less than ten minutes, Daddy. I don't know when I'll be back."

_Or if,_ she added silently.

He nodded. She knew that he understood what she had and hadn't said.

"Write when and if you can."

She nodded. Minutes of comfortable silence passed.

There was a noise from downstairs.

"Your friends are here."

She nodded.

"They're early."

She shook her head. "No. They're right on time. Tell Mummy-"

"I will. Go."

She hugged him and walked downstairs.

Immediately, a sandy-haired man and a red-haired woman caught her eyes. She smiled at them, feeling calm for the first time since she had told her parents about her recall.

"Remus. Molly."

"Hermione," both said.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blaise was thinking of a certain auburn-haired Gryffindor. Then, a memory surfaced that he usually tried to keep buried.

_Alex McMahone was pushing someone against the wall, he noted with more than a little distaste. It was too shadowy to tell whom, though. He was surprised that anyone would willing allow him to touch them, since the prick was definitely stud, _not_ lover._

_He froze when his gaze became red with fury._

_There was a cry and something took over him. Call it instinct or what, but he was no longer in full control of his body._

_He spun and pulled McMahone off of his _intended_ victum. He saw long red hair and instantly identified the petite Virginia Weasley._

_He threw McMahone to the other end of the quiet corridor._

_Quiet, that was, except for Virginia's sobs of terror._

_McMahone crawled away._

Later,_ he promised himself. _Punish him later. Red needs you _now_.

_Gently, he touched Red's temple. She jerked away, curling into a foetal position._

_"Red, it's me. C'mon, curse at me or something. Anything, just stop crying," he pleaded, continuing his inspection for injuries._

_She whimpered her fear, tensing further._

Damn that boy! I swear, next time I see him, it will be a beat down worthy of Wrestlemania!_ he vowed as he picked up Red and felt her curl against him._

_She was still terrified._

_Slowly, he lifted her hand to his mouth, moving his lips over the delicate skin._

_As he slid down the wall, cuddling her against him, he heard a soft, "Blaise?"_

_"You okay, Red? Did McMahone hurt you?"_

_She shook her head and kissed his cheek. "I'm fine, Blaise. Would you let me up?"_

_He shook his head, but stood and helped her get up. He knew enough about her to know that she was in _no_ condition to be left alone. She would accidentally hurt herself, and that was unacceptable. _

_"Can you make it back to Gryffindor Tower alone?" he asked finally._

_She nodded._

_"I don't want to let you go."_

_She looked at him as he kissed the inside of her right arm before biting into her wrist._

_She didn't cry out as blood from her body flowed over his tongue like fine wine. He pulled away._

_"One year, Red," he whispered hoarsely. "One year to do as you please. Just stay away from the Hufflepuffs."_

_He walked away._

He blinked, surprised. He hadn't remembered that last part. He had thought he dreamed it.

It didn't really matter though. The entire thing _still_ horrified him.

Virginia Weasley, 'Red' to him, had given him the most frightening scare of his life. Not even meeting the Dementors so long ago had terrified him so. Nor had the Dementors had this kind of lasting effect.

Slowly, he gained control of his breathing. It had been nine months, yet he could _still_ feel her terror. Her skin against his fingertips, under his lips. It had been alternately hot and cold. Her blood had been sweet and healing.

_Three months, Red. Then, you're_ mine_, clear? Three months._

He pressed play on his only Muggle device, a CD player. Comforting words filled his ears.

'Hold on to me now/You know I can't stay long/All I wanted to say/Was that I love you/And I'm not afraid…'

He wanted not only Red's submission, but her heart. The thought of her loving someone else, letting them touch her….

He growled, _"Never!_ _I_ dominate her for always!"

He stood. Hopefully a cold shower would help his suddenly bad mood.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ginny Weasley woke up, the bite mark on her wrist burning like white fire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: ****12 Grimmauld Place**

**She** looked at the bite mark, more than a little surprised by the intensity. She had been dreaming. A certain ebon-haired, amethyst-eyed Slytherin had been dominating her thoughts and dreams over the past year.

How, oh, _how_, was she going to face him during the coming year?

'_One year, Red. One year to do as you please,'_ he had whispered hoarsely.

That year was almost up.

She sighed and rose from her bed, much embarrassed to feel her body's reaction to 'seeing' Blaise Zambini alone in his room, shirtless and needy. Silently she cursed her curious nature.

Also, she cursed the fact that she hadn't been able to 'see' whether or not Blaise slept in the nude like she suspected.

She blushed at her wayward thoughts. She did _not_ desire that kind of knowledge about Blaise Zambini.

Hermione moaned in her slumber, causing Ginny to jump as she headed to the bathroom. She showered, the blessedly hot water pounding on her body.

And she remembered.

_She was almost done with this wing, which meant she _might_ be able to retire early for the evening. Oh, that would be such a blessing, for she was exhausted._

"_Alex McMahone, fifteen points from Hufflepuff for breaking curfew," she sighed._

"_I bet you can be.. _persuaded_ to return those points, prefect."_

_Something in his tone set her on edge. Perhaps it was the blatant disrespect for her hard-earned title. Suddenly, though, she was tense and scared._

_Alex touched her and she flinched. She was well and truly cornered. To her left and right were the huge firepits. Behind her was the wall. In front of her was someone she desired to escape._

_She cried out as his touch became more intimate and insistent, more disgusting. She began scratching and fighting. Where was her wand? Why couldn't she find her wand? Why was she fighting like a Muggle? She didn't think, she just fought._

_He was pulled away suddenly and she slid to the floor in hysteria._

_Blaise Zambini stood in front of her, eyes glowing reddish-purple. He frightened her. What would he think of her now? She had fought like a _Muggle_, for crying out loud._

_His touch was gentle, though she jerked away. His fury, she realized, wasn't directed at her, but at McMahone, whom was crawling away like a whipped dog._

_His eyes radiated something she wasn't entirely comfortable with, though, in this one moment, she needed it _and _him._

She pulled herself away from the memory. The water had started to run cold. With a sigh, she turned off the water and dried off, pulling on some fresh night clothes, though she knew she wouldn't sleep again this night.

She went to the secretary in the corner and took a seat, searching the drawers for a quill and ink. She would journal, an activity she had found most relaxing since the incident with Tom Riddle so many years back.. Had it only been five years?

_I don't know who to trust anymore,_ she wrote in the dim light of predawn. _I feel like I'm trying not to break, but there's just too much deceit for me to stay sane._

_Zambini… he's like a dark-haired avenging angel. He really isn't half bad, for a Slytherin. I've always like demons more than angels. Explains my little side trip with Voldemort, right?_

_The younger version of Voldemort, I should say. To me, in that form, he was my poor, unloved Tom. I loved him, for what time we had. And I loved him truly. Harry didn't even compare to what I felt for Tom._

_I'm off-topic._

_Zambini and Tom are alike, though I wish I didn't realize that. Thank Merlin, though, that Blaise will never have Tom's power level. Simply being around that kind of raw magic was addictive._

She closed her journal, chuckling quietly. She had, indeed, been addicted to the raw magic surrounding Tom Riddle. She sighed, looking out the window at the London dawn. She was still addicted to Tom, though she could never admit that to anyone. She was a druggie, and he was her high. Simply being around him was enough to sate the need.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hermione awoke with the sun right in her eyes.

"_Ouch!"_ she yelped, sitting up. Muscles screamed protest at the sudden movement.

"Good morning, Hermione. Did you sleep well?" queried the fully dressed, wide awake, annoyingly perky Virginia Weasley.

Hermione blushed as her dream came back to her. She nodded and whispered, "Wake me up in a couple of hours."

_She ran as though her life depended on it, and it _did_. The life she treasured for it's simplicity and serenity was in mortal danger. She glanced over her shoulder._

_He was close. Too close. If he pounced, she wouldn't escape._

_He growled, a low sound from the back of his throat. It scared her. Humans shouldn't be able to make sounds like that._

_He leapt over a tree stump. Involuntarily, she froze, amazed by the liquid grace of the action. It was beautiful and inhuman, just like he was._

_A soft sound as he landed on her, twisting so that he hit the ground instead of her, and rolling until he was on top. She was pillowed by the wet grass. It had rained here recently. In fact, a drizzle was starting up._

Oh, Merlin's Beard! _No! she begged, trying to get back up to run. She wanted him, there was no denying that, but not when he was like this. Not when he was feral._

She stopped, eyes closed. She knew what had happened, even if it was only in her head.

It terrified her.

_Tonight, Hermione LeAnne Granger, you get a Dreamless Sleep Potion,_ she informed herself, turning on Disturbed's 'Liberate' as loud as she could in her headphones.


End file.
